


Of Heroes and Heralds

by sanitysrebellion



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Additional Characters, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disabled Character, Explicit Language, F/M, King Alistair/Female Warden - Freeform, Mentions of Unrequited Past Love, One Sided Female Tabris/Alistair, Warden as Inquisitor AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5417279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanitysrebellion/pseuds/sanitysrebellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bride, Warden, Commander, Arlessa.<br/>Prosper Tabris had found herself in one unwanted occupation after another. After Amaranthine she'd thought that she had finally managed to wrench herself free from the cycle. She could spend her days in relative anonymity, drinking and wandering until the Taint finally claimed her.<br/>Then the Conclave happened and she found herself once again saddled with a title she never asked for and a job she didn't want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "But Sanity," the logical part of my brain implores. "You already have two Inquisition stories that you should be working on. You don't need another!"
> 
> "Hmm, that's a very good point," I agree, finger hovering over the submit button. "But I'm going to do it anyway."
> 
> A perfect example of why I need supervision.

Prosper Tabris was used to waking up to unfamiliar ceilings. After so many years tavern ceilings and cheap lodging all began to bleed together. Never distinct enough to be recognizable but somehow never similar enough to be familiar. With a groan the elf pushed herself upright. She was reminded of that time ten years ago; hard ground and thin tents, falling asleep in what armor they were too tired to take off, and waking stiff in the morning. It hurt to move but lying still ached.

With a muttered complaint Prosper reached up to push the red hair from her face and stopped short. It looked like a nasty gash across her palm. Something jagged that would sting like hell and take months to heal properly. Except, of course, that it was glowing. Glowing with a faint green light that pulsated softly in time with her heartbeat.

“Fuck,” the elf hissed. “Shit.”

Maker strike her down, she’d done something stupid again. It came back to her then, fuzzy and a little vague. That boonies town in the middle of the mountains she’d sworn she’d never return to. The conclave, the Seeker, Leliana in the shadows. Then that terrible hole in the sky and trekking through those damnable tunnels back to the temple with the hobo apostate and that dwarf from Kirkwall. This time there had been a distinct lack of dragons in the tunnels, a small blessing in the grand scheme of the chaos.

Prosper groaned, fighting the urge to collapse back onto the bed and bury herself in the blankets. Unfortunately pretending that it hadn’t happened wouldn’t make it go away, no matter how much wishing she did. Instead the elf settled for throwing the blankets from her body with entirely more force than was necessary and cursing anew as she was exposed to the winter chill of the room. She was dressed- she could feel the hem of the too-large shirt billowing about her thighs as she moved to rise, a small mercy. As her toes came into contact with the icy floor of the cabin Prosper wished whoever had put her to bed had had the decency to leave her with her socks.

The elf stood, ready to search out the remainder of her clothing, only to find herself off balance. She wobbled ungracefully, arms flailing as she tried to remain upright. The effort was futile and the motion of her waving arms only served to send her crashing to the floor quicker. Prosper landed heavily, nearly dragging the contents of the bedside table to the cold wood with her when she attempted to prevent the tumble. The redhead laid on the floor for a long moment, mildly dazed and more than a little confused. Prosper was sure she hadn’t ended up flat on her face since…

It was then her eyes focused on what was propped up against the wall, under the lone window of the cabin. The few beams of sunlight caught the intricately carved ironbark, making the curves and patterns gleam a dull silver-grey. The faint light caught the knicks and dents, the damage of years of constant wear.

Her prosthetic leg.

Prosper frowned as she hauled herself onto her elbows. The leather straps were beginning to look worn. 

“Asshole had the sense to take that off but not to leave me socks.” There was a brief pause as the elf grunted, pulling herself over to her leg. “Sock? Leave me a sock,” she amended, though there was no one around to question her grammar. 

Once to the wall Prosper leaned back, pulling the prosthetic to her. The ironbark of her leg was as chilled as everything else in the room, the cold seeping in from the window stealing any favors the sunlight might have done. With a huff Prosper began to fasten the leg to her with several quick, practiced motions.

Equipped with both legs and proper mobility searching the cabin room for her traveling leathers proved a much smaller challenge. The movement of walking the floor helped to ease her stiff muscles even if the chill of the room did little to improve her mood. Her clothing was eventually uncovered from a small trunk at the foot of the bed, the cloak smelling faintly of soap and the few possessions that had been in her pocket carefully stacked on top. Her borrowed weapons, picked up on the snowy trek to the Temple with the Seeker, were nowhere to be found. Prosper supposed it was no true loss. 

By the time she was dressed her back had stopped protesting her every movement and warmth had begun to return to her remaining toes. Now she could focus on the problem at hand- namely why one was glowing and what the Seeker would want from her now. Prosper grumbled, heading for the one roomed cabin’s door. The door swung open easily, exposing her to the world outside the dimly lit room and leaving Prosper to blink against the sudden fair of midday sun. Then her eyes adjusted and she caught her first real sight of Haven, unclouded by pain and confusion, hopefully devoid of cultists.

It seemed, on observation alone, as if half the population of this Maker-forsaken village had chosen to gather outside the cabin door. Villagers, armored men the elf could only assume to be soldiers, and servants alike milled about in two large groups, the smallest of pathways between them. They were murmuring to each other she noticed. Some sort of excited, hushed rumble too low to properly hear. When the people noticed the redhead standing at the doorway it all fell into an absolute hush. The two guards stationed only steps ahead from where she stood turned, the youngest lighting up as if Andraste herself had come down and kissed him full on the mouth.

“Oh, fuck no,” the elf all but growled, blue eyes narrowing. The hand on the door tightened and she stepped back, swinging the door shut with enough force to rattle the hinges.

There were only two reasons Prosper would ever find a large crowd of people outside her bedroom door: unrealistic expectations or an angry mob. She was in no mood to deal with either. Not today. Not ever. Unfortunately this now left her with the option of remaining hidden in the cabin until someone inevitably came to collect her or facing the overly excitable guard and the crowd of people. Unless…

Prosper turned to the small window on the far wall and grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

Scrambling out of the window proved to be more difficult than Prosper had initially imagined. She had misjudged the space available between the rock wall behind the cabin and the cabin itself. Still, she would be damned before she admitted defeat. The elf could still hear the sounds of people milling about the front of the cabin, the shifting of feet, the low sounds of conversation. If any of them heard her clumsy escape they made no move to investigate and for that Prosper was grateful.

Once free of the window and the rock wall threatening to trap her, the rogue crawled through the bushes by hands and knees, as quietly as could be managed. She had thought that the glowing would be the largest hindrance to her sneaking. As it turned out the cloak and the bushes were more troublesome. If it weren’t for the bitter mountain wind and the convenience of a hood to hide her face Prosper would have left the cloak in the cabin. It was a shame that the work of whomever had laundered it was so quickly ruined.

Several feet away from the gathered crowd the elf emerged behind a different cabin. Irritably she attempted to shake the branches and leaves from her cloak. It was sufficiently dirty now, damp from crushed snow and spotted with dirt patches. Prosper harrumphed and pulled the hood over her coppery hair and pointed ears. Briefly she regretted her Warden blue cloak. It might have matched her eyes, a stupid moment of vanity in some out of the way town months ago, but it was hardly subtle. Best to leave while most of the town was distracted. She stepped out from behind the cabin…

“My lady Herald.”

...only to nearly smack into an armored scout. Prosper bit back a shout of surprise and the scout straightened into a salute.

“Sister Nightingale suggested someone wait for you away from you room,” he continued even as the elf scowled, navy eyes narrowing at the name. “To be sure that you, ah, see her now that you're awake.”

Leliana. It had been completely foolish of the elf to think she could out sneak the bard.

“Fine,” Prosper spit out the word in the same way one chewed on raw elfroot: slightly bitter and unhappy about the whole ordeal. The former Warden-Commander brushed past the scout, yanking off the now pointless hood as she went. “I'll assume she's in the Chantry.”  
Haven’s Chantry was largely as Prosper remembered. All high ceilings, windows too large to be useful, and a questionable amount of candles. In the days of the dragon worshiping cult the building had smelled of blood and mildew, leaving Prosper to consider the cloying incense an improvement.

Even from her spot several steps from the doorway Prosper could hear the shouting from the farthest door. She wasn’t close enough to make out the words but she could tell the tone. Angry and haughty. Someone felt entitled to something they hadn’t gotten. The elf sniffed in disdain as she moved closer.

“The elf failed! The Breach is still in the sky and for all you know that was her plan all along!” It sounded like the angry Chantry man from the mountainside. He had been yelling then, too.

“I do not believe that!” A second voice shouted in return, accompanied by the sound of a gauntlet meeting wood.   
Prosper paused, hand on the door. Of all the people in Haven she’d expected to come to her defense- all one of them- she hadn’t thought to hear the Seeker.

“Wonder of wonders,” the redhead mumbled, pushing the door open. Then, louder, she said “Not to interrupt, but I prefer to be present when people talk badly about me.”

A brief glance around the room told her several things: 1.) This is where the survivors of the Conclave explosion had set up a command center of sorts, judging from the large map and scribbled notes; 2.) She had come to the right place as Leliana stood just behind the Seeker, half in shadow; and 3.) The Chancellor looked just as friendly as he had on the mountainside. Which was to say not at all.

“You shouldn’t be here at all!” Roderick bristled. “You should be in chains, dragged to Val Royeaux.”

“You said that already,” Prosper commented, “The first time we met, in fact.” The elf strode casually past the Chancellor, over to the table where the Seeker and Leliana stood. “I dare say if it hasn’t happened yet, it’s not going to.”

The man straightened, puffing himself up not unlike a small animal trying to look intimidating. He opened his mouth, no doubt to spout off all the reasons she should be arrested and hung. 

“With what little respect I can muster,” the Warden began, figuratively stamping Roderick’s protests under the heel of her boot. “I am not here to be shouted at, least of all by you. Let me finish my business and with any luck our paths will never cross again.”  
From the corner of her eye Prosper could see the Seeker frown. Regret and annoyance slid bitterly down her throat and sat uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. Prosper knew then she had made a mistake. It was then a detail returned to her. Something the elf had overlooked in her effort to expedite her leave.

‘My Lady Herald’ the scout had called her. Had saluted Prosper as if she were still someone important. Her head spun recalling the bright green slash still visible in the sky. No longer threatening doom but still there- still a problem. A new title, a monumental problem, and her in the middle.

Prosper clenched her fist, muffling the faint green light. “Son of a _bitch_.”

She should have run when she had the chance.


End file.
